


Cullrian: 30 Days of NSFW

by gwyllgi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Flash Fic, M/M, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/pseuds/gwyllgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short/flash fic based on prompts from <a href="http://bluebellglowinginthedark.tumblr.com/post/31013467173/30-days-otp-challenge-nsfw-version">this tumblr post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cuddles (Naked)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for prompts and—apparently—for Cullrian. This is a collection of my tumblr fic inspired by prompts from [this post](http://bluebellglowinginthedark.tumblr.com/post/31013467173/30-days-otp-challenge-nsfw-version). Want more? I'll be posting them first at my writing tumblr, [gwyllgi-writes](http://gwyllgi-writes.tumblr.com/).

Dorian woke with a shiver when a cold breeze brushed over his bare skin, and elbowed the man beside him. When Cullen started awake, Dorian turned his best frown on him.

"You're the commander of the Inquisition's forces. Don't you deserve a roof?"

Cullen mumbled something unintelligible, then shifted closer to wrap his arms around Dorian and drag him against his chest. He sighed contentedly and nuzzled Dorian's neck, brushed the tip of his nose behind Dorian's ear.

Dorian stiffened, even as Cullen's warmth seeped into him. "Are you attempting to distract me?"

"Yes," Cullen admitted, then snuggled Dorian impossibly closer, as though he were embracing him from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, and it took a great effort of will for Dorian to not melt into it. "It's not that cold."

Dorian huffed. "Fereldans." He squirmed in Cullen's hold until his back was nestled against Cullen's broad chest, crossed his arms over Cullen's, and closed his eyes. "In civilized places, this would be intolerable."

"Then it's a good thing we're not civilized," Cullen murmured against Dorian's ear, then rested his cheek, scratchy with stubble, against the back of Dorian's neck. "Do you want to get up, then?"

"I never said that."

Cullen chuckled softly at Dorian's arch tone. "Well, then."

"Well, then," Dorian echoed, and wiggled his backside into a more comfortable place. "Fereldans," he said again, and squeezed Cullen's arms more tightly around himself.


	2. Kiss (Naked)

It was late enough that Dorian hoped to have the bathhouse to himself; of the many things he missed about Tevinter, a private bath was one of the top. The faint sound of splashing as he opened the door, however, revealed that it was not to be, and Dorian sighed and hoped that the other bather wouldn't be feeling particularly chatty.

He avoided looking at his erstwhile companion as he found the farthest tub from the occupied one and began to strip, wondered as always why he always chose clothes with so damned many buckles. He'd finally peeled the garment from his torso when he heard a chuckle and turned in affront to find Cullen watching him.

"Do you need some help?" Cullen asked, even as he rose from his bath and reached for the drying cloth. "You look perturbed."

"I'm always perturbed," Dorian said, and deliberately turned his back to the nude commander. "Ferelden is perturbing." He finished freeing himself from his clothes and folded them neatly on the stand for just such a purpose next to the bath. "So are Fereldans, for that matter."

Cullen chuckled again, and it was much closer than Dorian had expected. "And me?"

Dorian frowned mightily, hoped that Cullen could sense it through the back of his head. "You're the most perturbing of all."

"I'm glad," Cullen said, and placed his hands on Dorian's shoulders, slid them down his arms to grip his biceps. "I'd hate to be only mildly perturbing."

"Are you _flirting_ with me, Commander?" Dorian tried to step away, but Cullen's hold was implacable—not too tight, but holding firmly. "I thought you got that out of your system."

Cullen's thumbs running over his skin shouldn't feel that good—it wasn't fair, a downright dirty tactic. "And me?" he repeated as his hands quested lower to stroke his fingers in the crook of Dorian's elbows. "Am I out of your system?"

Dorian huffed, glad Cullen was behind him; he could keep some of his dignity intact, at least. "You've been out of it for weeks," he declared as firmly as he could. "We had our fun, we moved on. It's barely a footnote in my biography."

Cullen was silent for a long moment, his hands still, before he released Dorian slowly. "I see. I... apologize if I've made you uncomfortable. Enjoy your bath, Dorian."

He was an idiot. He was a Maker-damned idiot, and he was going to regret it later. Perhaps. Not. "I never said you had to _stop_ ," he said, head turned to peer at Cullen over his shoulder. "I realize that I'm irresistible."

Cullen stared at him, then shook his head, though his lips turned up in a faint smile. "You are," he agreed, and closed the small distance he'd placed between them. His hands found Dorian's shoulders again, but instead of moving down, they instead pressed until Dorian turned, then held him steady as Cullen leaned in to brush his lips over the line of Dorian's cheekbone, lingering over the small mole near his eye. 

"You don't need to seduce me, Commander. I'm already a sure th—"

Cullen's kiss was surprisingly gentle, broken with a light suck to Dorian's lower lip. "You deserve seduction," he murmured, and kissed Dorian again before Dorian could call him the fool that he was.

There was nothing gentle about that kiss; it was raw and crude, and Dorian loved every second of it, every hint of teeth, every aggressive stroke of Cullen's tongue, every little noise that bubbled up from Cullen's throat. Maker's balls, he hadn't realized that being growled at could be so damned erotic. He gave as good as he got, devoured as he was devoured, until Cullen broke away again with a sharp nip.

"Enjoy your bath, Dorian," Cullen said again, and if his gaze lingered on Dorian's hard cock, Dorian couldn't blame him; he was having a hard time dragging his eyes away from Cullen's as well.

Why did the man have to look like he belonged on a promenade as a sculpture defining the ideal man?

"Let me know what you want to clear me out of your system again." Dorian knew his look was perfectly saucy; he'd practiced it in the mirror enough. "I'd hate for you to pine away over me."

Cullen shook his head again, but his smile was warm. "I'll bear that in mind." He didn't look at Dorian again as he dressed, and damned if Dorian didn't want to rip his light tunic and pants off of him again; the man was made to be naked. "Good night, Dorian," he said, and Dorian barely thought to echo it before Cullen was gone, the door shut softly behind him.

As Dorian sank into his bath, he sighed and rubbed both hands over his face. Barely a footnote, indeed—he'd always been terrible at lying to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget that I'll post new prompts first at [gwyllgi-writes](http://gwyllgi-writes.tumblr.com/)!


	3. First Time

"I don't know why you ran," Dorian called up the ladder into Cullen's bedchamber. "You've nothing to be ashamed of." He paused delicately, then added, "Quite the opposite, I'd say."

Cullen's groan was muffled. "I'll never live this down."

"Then don't." Dorian eyed the ladder, then, with a mental sigh, began to climb; why the man couldn't sleep somewhere with _stairs_ was beyond him. "Embrace it. Who knows? The commander's naked dash through Skyhold may even make it into the history books. There may be illustrations."

When Dorian reached the top of the ladder, it was to find Cullen facedown on the bed, face buried in a pillow. "Are you intending to help?" he asked as he lifted his head to peer at Dorian over his shoulder. "I must say: you're not."

"Now, now." Dorian moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pat Cullen's backside. "I _am_ here to help, naturally. You simply don't appreciate it."

Cullen narrowed his eyes, stared at him until Dorian pulled his hand away. "How do you intend to 'help'?" He rolled onto his side, propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed his face with his other hand. "Unless you can go back in time and tell my past self not to be an idiot, I don't think there's much you can do."

"I've already done time travel, as you'll recall; I don't recommend it." He let his gaze drift appreciatively down Cullen's body, lingered at his broad chest and lax cock. "Isn't it obvious? I intend to distract you."

"Dorian," Cullen began, only to cut off when Dorian laid his hand on Cullen's belly and slid it up his chest, leaned over him until they were nearly nose to nose.

"Don't argue, now. A little distraction will do you good."

Cullen was unusually pliant when Dorian pressed their lips together, accepting but not encouraging. He opened his mouth to the press of Dorian's tongue, met it with his own, but it was as though he was holding back, reserved. They'd shared a kiss—one glorious kiss—before, and Cullen had been far from a passive recipient; Dorian wondered what had changed and pulled away with a frown.

"I'm not going to force myself upon you," he said, and straightened, braced one hand on the edge of the bed to push himself upright, only to be caught by Cullen's hand around his wrist. He looked down at the contact and raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to make up your mind, you know."

Cullen's expression was unreadable as he pulled Dorian toward him, drew him by the wrist to press Dorian's hand to his hip. Once it was anchored, he reached for Dorian's shoulder and tugged him down until Dorian could feel Cullen's breath against his lips. "I have," Cullen murmured, and then they were kissing again.

There was nothing passive about this kiss; Cullen was on the attack, and Dorian let himself be carried away by it, basked in Cullen's enthusiasm. He gripped Cullen's hip tightly, braced his other hand against the mattress as he drew his knees up and turned onto them until he crouched over Cullen.

Another tug and Dorian flailed before he collapsed against Cullen's chest. He imagined he could feel the vibrations of Cullen's chuckle before Cullen kissed him again, gentler this time, lingering and sweet. Dorian heard himself moan softly, muffled between their mouths, and flushed; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed like that, much less been swept away by it.

Cullen broke away to press pecking kisses over Dorian's face—his chin, his eyebrows, the tip of his nose—before they stopped at the corner of Dorian's mouth, stayed there for a long moment. He pulled away when Dorian turned his head to chase the kiss, and cupped Dorian's cheek in his palm.

"Your distraction could use fewer clothes," he said, and though Dorian thought he'd intended it as teasing, the huskiness of Cullen's voice turned it into something else entirely, an oral caress that sent shivers down Dorian's spine.

"I quite agree," Dorian said, and reluctantly dragged himself from Cullen's chest to turn his attention to disrobing. Cullen lounged on the bed and watched him with hooded eyes. Dorian knew how to put on a show, how to draw it out, but something in Cullen's gaze rendered his fingers thick and clumsy. It seemed forever before he stepped out of the last of his clothes, left them piled on the floor as he crawled back onto the bed.

Cullen cupped Dorian's cheek again as soon as he was in reach, rubbed his thumb along Dorian's cheekbone as Dorian closed his eyes. "It's already a very effective distraction." He paused, then suddenly upended Dorian, whose eyes flew open as he was tumbled to his back. Cullen loomed over him. "Shall we see how much more distracting you can be?"

Dorian ran his hands up Cullen's sides, nudged Cullen's knee with his own until their legs were slotted together. "You'll find I'm quite good at it, distracting." He kissed Cullen's chuckle away, then kissed him once more for good measure. "I'm told, in fact, that I'm quite talented—naturally-gifted, even."

"Dorian, it doesn't matter what other men have told you," Cullen chided, then nibbled up the column of Dorian's throat to nip his chin. "They aren't here. It's only us."

Dorian blinked; no glib comment came to his tongue, and it felt suddenly heavy and awkward in his mouth. He slid his hands to Cullen's back to cover his awkwardness, traced the lines of defined musculature there.

"Dorian," Cullen said again, and caught him in another kiss so eager that it blurred the end of Dorian's name. His fingers ran through Dorian's hair to cradle his skull, angled him to change the kiss, and it was _magical_. It was _better_ than magic; the tingle and buzz of magic coursing through him when he cast a spell had nothing on the shivers that each stroke of Cullen's tongue caused, the heat that lingered everywhere Cullen touched.

Dorian worked a hand between them to grip Cullen's stiffening cock, only for Cullen to catch his wrist again and draw it away. Dorian made a sound of complaint, then another when Cullen broke the kiss to brush his lips across Dorian's cheek to his ear.

"Not yet," Cullen whispered hoarsely; his breath tickled Dorian's ear and set off yet another cascade of shivers. "I wouldn't last."

It was Dorian's turn to chuckle as he instead rested his hands on Cullen's ass, squeezed the firm cheeks. "Who needs to last? It's passion, it's pleasure; it'll all end in the same place."

Cullen hummed and nipped Dorian's ear, soothed it with a sucking kiss. "Then why rush? Perhaps it's time to take ours."

Dorian pushed him back to search his face, even as he tried to tell himself that the sharpness in his chest wasn't a sudden feeling of vulnerability. "You are the commander," he said at last, and it felt like the words were gravel forced through his throat, but the utterance was lightening, a surge of relief.

Cullen's reply was decidedly non-verbal; he slid a hand to Dorian's hip, then lower to pull one of Dorian's legs up, drew it higher until his hips were cradled between the spread of Dorian's thighs. He exhaled tightly as their swollen cocks aligned, rocked his hips in an abortive thrust, and buried his face again in Dorian's throat.

"Still want to take your time?" Dorian inquired primly, only to suck in a breath when Cullen bit him. "I'm afraid that you'll need to clarify."

Instead, Cullen kissed him again, and Dorian lost himself in it; such intimacy was rare in the circles he'd frequented in Tevinter, and he felt like dry earth soaking up rain as he let himself be filled by it. How long they kissed, Dorian didn't know, though his lips felt particularly swollen and over-sensitive when they finally broke apart.

"I—"

Cullen silenced Dorian with a finger against his lips, followed it with a fleeting kiss. "No more talking," he declared, and moved his hips in a slow roll that had to be deliberately evil.

Dorian practically bit his tongue as his hips jerked against Cullen's, and retaliated by working his hands between their chests to pinch Cullen's nipples— _hard_. When Cullen snorted a laugh and tried to twitch away, Dorian hooked his raised leg around Cullen and pulled him firmly against him, circled his hips to grind their cocks together.

Cullen's faint growl was... much hotter than it had any right being, and Dorian closed his eyes briefly as he reveled in it. When he opened them again, Cullen was watching him with a strange expression, one that quickly melted away when he realized that Dorian was watching him.

Questions lay at the tip of his tongue, but Dorian closed his teeth tightly on them to keep them from spilling out. Instead, he ran his fingers through Cullen's hair—it should be illegal, how attractive Cullen was when he was rumpled—and pulled him into yet another kiss. It was softer, sweeter, yet so deep that Dorian very nearly forgot about the demanding erection pressed against Cullen's skin. When Cullen shifted, though—no matter how minute the movement—the pressure against his cock was very nearly enough to make him beg for more.

When their kiss broke, Cullen rubbed his cheek lightly over Dorian's; the rasp of his stubble was surprisingly not unpleasant. He replaced stubble with lips, trailed them again across Dorian's cheek to his ear. Dorian shuddered when Cullen's breath tickled the sensitive skin there, then again when Cullen shifted to a side, just enough to wrap his hand around Dorian's cock.

"May I?"

Dorian huffed to cover his sharp inhale. "I believe you said there was to be no more talking," he replied tartly, pleased that he'd managed the tone until Cullen nuzzled beneath his ear and ran his hand up Dorian's shaft in one long, perfect stroke. 'Cheater,' he meant to say, but all that came out was, "Ngh."

Cullen, damn him, laughed, and nibbled the lobe of Dorian's ear as his hand reversed its path to glide down until his fingers were brushing Dorian's balls. "Is that a 'yes'?"

Dorian debated hitting him, but instead plowed his fingers into Cullen's hair again and tugged. "Yes, damn you—it's a 'yes'."

" _Good_." Cullen released Dorian's cock, but, before Dorian had time to mourn the loss of his hand, Cullen curled it around Dorian's chin. "Maker, you're beautiful."

"I know," Dorian said, and smiled his well-practiced saucy smile as he ignored the heat that licked in his belly. "It takes work, looking this good."

Cullen's eyes widened, before he sighed in what Dorian hoped was _mock_ consternation. "So modest," he lamented, then leaned over Dorian.

Dorian tilted his chin up for the expected kiss, but Cullen ignored it, instead reached for something on the stand beside his bed. Dorian turned his head to look, only to laugh at the sight of a small jar of the type the healers used for unguents. "Planned this, did we?"

Cullen flushed was entirely too adorable, and he only looked more flustered when Dorian stroked his red cheek. "No, I— It's for when I— That is, I use it for—"

"Oh, I quite understand," Dorian interrupted. "We have needs; it's perfectly natural to—"

Cut off by a kiss, Dorian hummed and sank into it, only to be pulled out by the stroke of Cullen's slicked hand over his cock, followed by another, then another. He was fairly certain he cursed, knew he arched uncontrollably, then _definitely_ cursed when Cullen pulled his hand away. A moment later it was back, sliding lower, tickling across Dorian's balls and over his perineum to circle the pucker between his cheeks. Cullen's hand pulled away again, but Dorian had little time to miss it; barely a moment later, it returned to circle again, pressed a finger ever-so slightly into him before the circling resumed as a massage that was slowly driving him insane.

" _Do_ it," Dorian demanded, then inhaled sharply as Cullen's finger slid into him, moved inexorably until it was buried in him to the knuckle. Dorian flexed around it, tightened his muscles to _feel_ the invading digit, and pressed his head back into the pillow.

Cullen seized the opportunity, nibbled up the arched column of Dorian's throat as a second finger joined the first, stroked in and out with a maddeningly slow rhythm. Dorian moaned, tilted his chin farther up yet, and dug his heels into the mattress to press his knees up, the better to open himself to Cullen. His neglected cock bobbed between them, and he couldn't even mind, not when Cullen added a third finger and twisted them, nearly sent Dorian off the bed as sensation overloaded his nerves.

Though Cullen seemed content to have Dorian wrapped around his fingers, it wasn't enough—it wasn't anywhere _near_ enough. He thumped Cullen with a heel, then again when Cullen only chuckled against his throat and crooked his fingers. "Dammit," Dorian growled, then stopped; he'd never sounded like that: that desperate, that needy. "Don't you want more than your fingers in me?" he continued more cautiously, every word carefully drawn out.

Cullen answered him with more an exchange of breaths than a kiss; he barely touched their lips together, drew away, brushed them together again, and it was somehow even better than tongues and teeth could be. Dorian sighed as Cullen's fingers slid from within him, but the anticipation of more made their lack well worth it. He caught his hands behind his knees to draw them up farther yet, watched between them as Cullen stroked his own cock, unguent shining on his skin in the wake of his hand.

The first press of the plump head against his hole made Dorian's eyes slide shut, but he forced them open again. The expressions that crossed Cullen's face as he seated himself in Dorian were worth the effort, and Dorian watched until Cullen had bottomed out and opened his eyes to meet Dorian's.

Their gazes held as Cullen withdrew until the barest tip of his cock remained within Dorian's body, as Cullen slowly buried himself within Dorian again, as Cullen took first one of Dorian's hands, then the other, and threaded their fingers together, pressed their linked hands against the mattress at Dorian's sides. Dorian couldn't look away as Cullen set a leisurely pace of thrusts; the slow drags in and out of his hole were very nearly enough to make Dorian strongly consider screaming in frustration.

Dorian squeezed Cullen's hands, clamped them together as he rocked his hips against Cullen's, out of sync and awkward as he tried to coax Cullen into something a little more energetic. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face; Cullen kissed his chin, brushed his lips beneath Dorian's mouche, and released his hands to instead grip Dorian's thighs, pushed them higher still as he stroked in and—

Dorian had never really understood before when people said they saw stars; it was a jolt of realization, a shower of lights across the inside of lids he didn't remember closing. He didn't recognize himself in the broken groan that escaped his throat, but it didn't matter—not while Cullen pumped in and out of him, angled so perfectly that Dorian could all but feel his heart stopping with each stroke.

When one of Cullen's hands slid to wrap once more around Dorian's cock, there was little Dorian could do but buck into Cullen's grip. The stroke of Cullen's hand, counterpoint to the rough rhythm of his hips, was almost enough, almost too much, and, finally, just right.

Dorian slid his hands under the pillow, clenched them tightly in it as he exhaled a sharp 'ah' and came. The world narrowed to the contact of Cullen's skin against his, the slide of his cock, the stroke of his hand, the softness of his lips as he bent to press his mouth to Dorian's. Each contact set off more shudders, forced more—he was _not_ whimpering, he just couldn't catch his breath for a proper moan.

"Dori—" Cullen's lips formed the syllables against the corner of Dorian's mouth, his breath hot as he panted and shook. Dorian reveled in Cullen's climax as much as his own; it was powerful, intoxicating, to know that he had done it to this man. Dorian extracted his hands from under the pillow to curl his fingers around Cullen's nape, stirred the fine hairs there until Cullen's breathing steadied.

"My," Dorian said, and barely recognized himself in the husky tone. "That was an enlightening experience."

He could feel Cullen's lips tighten against his cheek, and he hoped he hadn't just put his foot in it. Reassurance came a moment later when Cullen kissed his cheek, even as he shifted to slide from within Dorian's body.

Dorian exhaled heavily when the head of Cullen's cock popped free and thumped his head against the pillow. "I'd say that requires a repeat performance."

Cullen paused, then rubbed a hand over Dorian's belly, through the seed that dried there. "Are you certain you need more _enlightenment_?" He kissed Dorian's other cheek, then the jut of his chin. "I'm not interested in being a learning experience."

Dorian's stomach dropped, even as he told himself that he read too much into Cullen's words. "Ah, you're so much more," he said lightly, and traced his fingers over the back of Cullen's hand. "You're an epiphany," he added, then snapped his mouth shut; that was a little too near the truth for his comfort.

Cullen, Maker bless him, didn't push. "I'm also exhausted." He rolled onto his side and dragged Dorian against his chest, one arm wrapped implacably around Dorian's waist to prevent his escape.

"We're a _mess_ ," Dorian blurted as he strained impotently against Cullen's embrace. "You can't possibly intend to sleep like this."

Cullen chuckled and kissed the nape of Dorian's neck, then relinquished his hold. "There's a basin, over there," he said, and gestured vaguely over his shoulder. "Help yourself."

Dorian clicked his tongue and slid from the bed, winced as skin tugged when he moved. "Heathen," he said, and even he could hear the fondness. He poured water into the basin and wet the rough cloth there, scrubbed himself as clean as he could. By the time he was done, Cullen was snoring softly; he didn't rouse even when Dorian returned to the bed to gently wipe Cullen's skin.

Done, Dorian dropped the cloth back in the basin and reached for his clothes, heaped where he'd left them on the floor. He paused as he made to step into his breeches, though, and eyed the strong line of Cullen's shoulders as he considered. He'd never been one to linger—his position in Tevinter had ensured that dalliances were succinct, at best—but the memory of Cullen's arm around him...

Why was he fighting it?

His clothes left in their pile, Dorian knelt on the edge of the bed, then crawled across it until he could stretch out on his side. He caught Cullen's wrist to lift his arm until Dorian could settle his back against Cullen's chest, then tucked Cullen's arm around his waist again and relaxed with a sigh.

"I'm glad you stayed."

Dorian snorted softly and closed his eyes. "It would hardly be fitting to leave a man in your state; it was the responsible thing to do."

Another snore met Dorian's quip—had Cullen even really been awake? Dorian sighed again, content and comfortable, and let his eyes drift closed.

He wouldn't let himself get used to it, but it couldn't hurt to indulge once, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget that I'll post new prompt fills first at [gwyllgi-writes](http://gwyllgi-writes.tumblr.com)!


	4. Masturbation

There was something decadent about it: the slick slide of his hand over his cock, the curl of his fingers as he squeezed his balls, the rub of his palm over his belly as it heaved. It had been what seemed like ages since he'd had more than a moment to himself, much less more than a moment in which he had energy enough to indulge in anything other than fractured sleep.

It wasn't a frequent occurrence, pleasuring himself, and that made it all the more heady.

As he teased and toyed with himself, he let his mind wander. It drifted over Evelyn's gentle curves, the surprising delicacy of Cassandra's fingers. It wound through memories of Marian's undeniably-impressive arms and a long-ago night stolen in Kirkwall, even old fantasies of Solana during his naïve infatuation.

He let it build inside of him as he stroked himself, imagined it was not his hand but another, calloused after years of handling a sword or staff. It was smaller fingers that ran through the curls at his groin and tugged at his balls. He closed his eyes as he pressed his palm against his belly and imagined hair that spilled over slimmer shoulders to tickle against his chest.

He could practically feel the warmth of his phantom partner as he lost himself in the fantasy. Blue eyes, green eyes, brown in every shade, they all watched him as he pressed his head back against his headboard and rolled his hips into the grip on his cock, just a shade too tight—but, then, he wanted this to last. Lips trailed up his throat, kissed his open mouth, as hands—more than one person could ever possess—ran over his shoulders and sides, played with his nipples, tousled his hair.

There wasn't an inch of skin that didn't sing.

He could feel it as his balls tightened and squeezed his cock, panted as he struggled to rein in the orgasm that tingled at the base of his spine. It was many long, agonized breaths before he dared move his hand to circle a finger around the slit at the top, and very nearly undid himself again.

His toes curled as he clenched his eyes shut and pressed his hips into the mattress. Too soon, too soon—

In his head, pleased laughter echoed, but there was nothing feminine in the sound; it was a timbre far too deep to be anything but a man. Blue and brown and amber eyes morphed into a cool grey, while the corners of a wicked smile disappeared behind a meticulously-maintained moustache. The shoulders broadened, the hips flattened, and that was definitely a hard cock he imagined against his thigh. The hand that gripped him pumped firmly, hit all the right spots, knew just how much pressure was perfect to make him—

Cullen bit his lip and hunched as he came, spurted over his fingers as they stroked until even the touch of his own hand was too much. He gasped for breath and scrubbed his hand over thigh, until the wet abated into stickiness that left him feeling somehow less dirty than fantasizing about friends and comrades did.

Maker, that had been a bad idea from the start, a slippery slope of mistakes he shouldn't have made. It would be hard enough to face the Inquisitor when next they met, but he feared Cassandra would read him like one of her romances and remove applicable portions of his anatomy.

Dorian, though... Dorian would probably laugh and offer an experience to compare to the fantasy, and Cullen couldn't safely say that he wouldn't take him up on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget that I'll post new prompts first at [gwyllgi-writes](http://gwyllgi-writes.tumblr.com/)!


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